Blood Obsession
by A Snip and a Stitch
Summary: After accidentally stumbling upon the repo man in the process of his job, she begins to lust after the path of chaos he leaves in his aftermath. Repo/OC Alter ego of Nathan.
1. She Remembers

She remembers…

She remembers the first time she saw him.

She had turned down a wrong alley after running from a group of zydrate junkies looking for an easy score off of some chick that had wondered too close looking too nice to be out alone. Already scared enough, she was unprepared to seem _him _at work in the middle of the alley, busy pulling out some dead mans' stomach. Stifling a scream behind her hand she stumbled back, crouching behind a stinking dumpster back against the grime caking the body dump. The sound of blood splattering the ground and the occasional grunt from the whistling Repo man was the only thing louder than her ragged breathing.

He hadn't seen her, didn't even notice anybody else was there; he was so absorbed with his work. Eventually she calmed down enough when she realized that this bogeyman made real wasn't tearing his way after her to slice her throat and leave her corpse to rot. Inching her way around the corner of the dumpster she peered around the edge curiosity winning over common sense, he wasn't quite as big as people said standing only what looked like 6'2" instead of 6'6". Strong arms cleaved into muscle and moved aside intestine drawing out a sack like prize which he joyfully tossed in a bag in a cooler. Broad shoulders, gravely voice as he thanked his victim for the wonderful time, his steps fluid and predatory, something deep inside her clenched at seeing the blood drip from his weapon of choice as he walked away already calling in the clean up crew.

She watched him leave fascinated by him, by the way the body lay there steam rising from the hot blood. Standing on unsteady heels she tentatively stepped from behind the dumpster and stepped forwards intending to catch a closer look, it was at that time the crew decided show up. Well at least she had plenty of practice running in heels.

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The second time wasn't an accident. She had sent the paper work up to Mister Largo about the most recent person to default on the payment 90 days and need to send out the repo men to collect. It didn't slip past her that on the entry it listed possible locations of the soon to be victim. She made her plans and left as soon as her work let out, headed to one of the three areas the junkie resided. There was a chance she would miss him, or the junkie wouldn't even be there, but there was a decent chance she'd see him again.

She had to see him again; he was there in her mind constantly. The predator moving so effortlessly before her, it was like the stories about giant cats that would hunt in forests, blending like the night. She dreamed of him, nightmare like dreams haunted her as she slept of the hot blood running everywhere, down her naked body as she ran through the streets. A dark shadow chasing her, eyes glowing down side streets watching, the sharp sting of a blade pressed to her sternum and teeth pressed to her neck, her mind explodes in ecstasy when a strong hand molests her left breast. Each night the dream went further, blood and fear paired with pain and pleasure going closer and closer to orgasm but always being a touch away, it was beginning to drive her mad.

She was startled out of her reverie when a skeletal man came shrieking out the door running as his life was probably counting on it. A small smile graced her face as the Repoman came through the door leisurely loping after his prey. It was here she saw his eyes for the first time, cold yes but so happy to be doing his work, it was hard to see what color they were but they were beautiful to her, no matter. She followed after him, this time in softened shoe, quiet like the dead.

This time he had corned this waste of space, useless spark of life, in an alley renown for housing zydrate junkies. That was how she found him; she just went in the opposite direction that everyone else was running from. Some multi-haired junkie tried to stop her, probably from the goodness of his heart; he barely got away blood free. She no longer went out without protection and blades came so sharp these days. Ah alone at last, the screaming was just beginning when she rounded the corner, he had strung him up using the fire escape as a steady place to hang a rope. Arms stretched above his head, he had apparently had tried to kick, for one of his legs was at an odd angle and the other lay limp, _it_ was finally beautiful now in the final throes of life. It's thrashing and screams and moans seem almost sexual in nature as he begs and cries, she could feel herself become wet watching at the entrance of the alley. He didn't even look up, why would he no one pursued the Repoman, no one would dare.

What was wrong with her, it was some one dying before her, yet in this city death was as normal as breathing. It was intoxicating watching him work. She left after it had stopped screaming and the organ was pulled, no sense staying longer than necessary. Besides with the way the city was working these days there would be plenty more opportunities.


	2. Encounter

It had been months since she had started following him religiously She had started out only finding him when his papers came across her desk, the best repo man they had, but soon that was soon enough. Once a month became once a week to every other day, now seven months after stumbling upon him, she was following him every night. Asking her co-workers for his papers or bribing them if she had too, people were starting to notice that she never went out with them anymore for the normal after work drink. She was becoming fast addicted to the gore and violence, to everything about _him_.

This game they played, him unaware of the ever tightening circle she walked around him, became more and more dangerous as she came a step closer to him. Last time if she reached she could have touched him, but her courage fled her and she retreated back again to the shadows, always leaving before he finished. The lack of sleep was catching up to her, forced to take energy supplements during the day to stay attentive to her work and close to him. Yet she was becoming clumsy in her watching, every time she saw him her care slipped lower and lower.

It was because of this that she didn't move when he was done, she was now within his long arms reach, when he turned she saw something she had never expected to see. His eyes were startled to find someone so close, and his arm sped out and a firm hand wrapped around her throat. Cold, narrow eyes looked her over, hand squeezing spasmodically around her throat cutting off her air, her own eyes were blank. No fear, no hate, not even madness alighted her eyes, a glimmer, in those carefully blanked eyes, of joy and lust was there but barely. The Repo man growled low in his throat, the predator angry at the missing scent of fear from this little faun. "Do you fear me?"

Lids fluttering as she started to pass out she manages to barely shake her head no, a small smile on her face. Backing her up against a wall he pinned her there looking her over for tricks. Lights started dancing before her eyes causing the Repo man to appear even more otherworldly. Her heart started to protest the lack of oxygen, and the flip it did at being this close to him. With a snarl at not finding what he wanted he tossed her aside to the wet concrete. "Leave." And with that he ignored her again and called for a clean up. She sat regaining her breath clutching her throat, watching him before picking herself up and walking away, no running for her life no screaming, how irksome.

The 217th time she saw him, or the next night, he was busy stringing someone up upside down. It was interesting to say the least, like modern art, not her favorite thing of his but it wasn't the worst thing he had ever done. This time there was no hesitation from her she stepped right up to him and watched him work, he was going after a spleen this time, she thought. The pattern the intestines made hanging out of the torso, dangling in front of the dead woman's breasts was pretty, ah now she saw what he was going for. Really for all intensive purposes she should have been holding a glass of wine and chatting about the latest exploits of the Largo siblings. He seemed to be muttering to himself, his gravelly voice murmuring about how difficult this one was and how it was always a thankless job to do.

"I think it's wonderful…"

Once again she found herself suffocating and pressed against an alley wall. "You." He shoves harder on her and she realizes that he could snap her neck if he wanted, a soft moan slithers through her lips which could be misheard as a whimper. But the Repoman has better ears than that. The pressure on her neck eases and she could breath easier now, he eventually backs away, his eyes betraying him as they dance with amusement. "Oooh, You're one of those." He moves back to return to his work, but she reaches out towards him, her eyes glued to the red shining on his coat. That damned hand snaked out again and captured her wrist this time, the look in his eyes this time is no longer amused there is annoyance there. "What do you think you're doing junkie?"

Ah that's what he thinks she is. "I want to see if it's still warm." Her voice is whispered and rough like she had just had sex instead of being strangled. The hand relaxes on her and her fingers tremble as they continue their journey. She runs her finger tips down the front of his chest watching the line her fingers carved through the blood. It had cooled, how sad, playing with the blood on her fingers testing it's tackiness and the smell, coppery and sweet, dark like cherry syrup, what would it look like on something pale? Looking around she saw nothing but grime and dirt the only thing pure and white was her own skin…the red stood out bright against the white. A slash of crimson across the tops of her milky breasts, she became aware of his eyes.

They must have followed her hand as he was now staring at the same red stain as she. Something different was in those two steely orbs that were now so hot to look upon, was there such a lust as seeing a woman's bust splattered with blood? She supposed so telling from him. "Repo man…" It was a whispered plea from her, and suddenly he was gone in a flurry of leather and steel. The body swayed from the motion of the passing terror, blood dripping from it still, its prize already taken. Alone in an alley with the dead how…wonderful.


	3. Through Blood

Oh it was not so long when she saw him again. This time he was pulling the lower intestine from a older man, who seemed like he could've made the payments, maybe he was hollow only a pretty veneer for the world to look at. No matter her predator was aware that she was there and he was silent as he stalked her, how terribly exhilarating to be the one being sought after this time, even if it was only to be pushed away. Yet he surprised her, instead of shoving her and telling her to leave, who she would ignore and be injured for it, her neck still had bruises on it, he roughly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled. The gloves were slippery but still held her like a rabid dogs mouth, she was sure she would have more bruises tomorrow and she shivered at the thought, though you cannot drag the willing the Repoman tried anyway.

"So you like what I do?" The gravelly edge was filled with fury that she didn't understand, had she truly intruded too much on his work? "Want to see if it's still warm?" He mocked her and it was then that the tiny threads of fear started to creep in on the corners of her mind, was he going to lock her out of his wonderful world of blood and pain so exquisite it had to be called beautiful. She started to pull away from him but his grip tightened painfully so and she cried out, a soft kittenish thing in the darkness.

Suddenly she was in front of his latest victim, and her arms were up in the body, which was chained to a fire escape. The first sensation was not that the blood was warm, no it was hot, it seemed to want to burn her as if trying for one last vengeful act before the body cooled and expired. Second she realized, with a start, that the man was still alive as his intestines played around her arms like eels moving with each faint breath and shaking with every heart beat that fought its way passed the need to die. She could feel this man's life around her hands fading but there none the less; curious she gave a squeeze of her hand around a thick rope of gut and was rewarded with a deep groan which sent pleasant vibrations up her arm and into her chest. The feeling of it caused her nipples to harden, and she sighed in pleasure.

She could feel his eyes on her and could almost taste his confusion, yet there was one last thing she wanted to do before could act again. She wrapped a hand around what felt like a smaller piece of intestine that had something hard on it, rectangular and pulled. And kept pulling until the man gave his last breath screaming as his small intestine was pulled from his body by delicate female hands. Hands that had never had a callous, or were ever rough in touch, never anything but soft and innocent in appearance, now held long ropes of intestine between them like a cat caught in yarn out to the dark figure watching her. "Are these it?" She lifted them higher to inspect them in the better light of the street lamp. "They had the barcode on them so I guessed."

A voice soft and smooth was what answered her, "She's a monster too." This was not the voice of her Repo, who was this sheep in wolf's clothing. Frowning, she boldly stepped closer to him the intestine dangling from her finger tips, a pretty pout on her lips. Juggling the intestines to one hand like a ball of string she pointed at him with her operatic like organic glove wrapped hand, "Imposter!" She accused and watched the shock in the other man's eyes melt into enraged amusement. A hand snapped out and took hold of that accusatory finger and held it form, something warred in his mind for she saw it in his eyes, and he was trying to decide on how to punish her for doubting her chosen deity. She could see one of the choices very plainly before her, something violent and that she would not enjoy but would happily accept and the other was clouded with reluctance from a source not of his own, probably that other she had seen moments before.

She tried to supplicate him by offering him the intestines but unfortunately the flesh had reached its limit or had gotten snagged on something in the body for it would not come any further for her. So she stood there vulnerable and open before him speckled in fine drops of blood that shone like garnets on her skin, then the choice was made and he acted. Instead of pulling or forcing her to come to him, he instead came to her. Twisting her hand so that he gripped the whole of it in his much larger calloused hand, he moved into her and tucked her into him as well. That warm, rough, bare hand that now held her own close to his chest, a prisoner there against his broad chest, the intestines slipped from her hands and landed with a wet plop on the dirty ground and she blushed at her mistake.

The grip on her hand become painful as he tightened it but not to the point of being unbearable, he tsked her and shook his head, the blue on his visor made her skin glow as if it was under real moonlight, which no one had seen in the city or really anywhere in about thirty years.

"Look what you've done. Now I'll have to clean it before I can deliver it. Do you know how much work that is? No, you don't you stupid little thing," The edge was back but now it was teasing and dangerous, no safer than before but it hinted at intimate promises that what ever scars he gave her would be worth it and would fade too soon for her tastes.

Hot breath fanned her face, when had he removed the surgical mask? That silly thought was the last she had before his mouth crushed itself against hers. It was as she imagined he would do it, he claimed her roughly, their teeth clicked against each other a couple of times before she stopped trying to play as she always had and just submitted, giving in to what he wanted. He pressed his mouth against hers and bit her lip until she opened, his tongue swept inside her mouth conquering every part of it as if he was forcing himself to remember every contour like he would never have another chance. N She wasn't sure when their beloved blood entered the mix and tangled with their tastes but it seemed to only excite them more as their movements became more frantic.

He released her hand only grip her hips and pull her closer to him, she in turn wound her blood covered arms around his neck and ground into him with a long purring moan. Only the sightless eyes of the ruined being once called man and the suicidal moths around the lamp light know where they might have gone had not the startled scream of a passerby not broken them apart, in sync they separated and yet acted all at the same time. He to collect his bounty and she to the terrified woman to threaten, cajole or buy her silence, and how wonderfully it was too to frighten the woman with blood soaked hands and terrible voice. The deed done she turned back not truly expecting him to be there but still hoping he would be, damn the dreaming mind in her the realist side mourned, for her was indeed correct to assume he would not be there, there was nothing just a dead man with his organs laid out before him on the ground as a private showing just for her eyes to enjoy. That night she went home sailing on a boat floating on the river Styx, a wonderful memory indeed.


End file.
